


My only dearest little petal

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, One-Sided Love, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: Roger is throwing up flowers, and thinking that he's dying. There's a simpler explanantion.Maylor Hanahaki disease Au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hanahaki: A disease affecting the human body system, making the person cough up and vomit flower petals due to one-sided love. There are two options to get rid of this disease: their crush being requited or extracting the flower in surgery. If choosing the surgical process, the flower petals will stop but with it goes the owner's memories their crush. If no course of action is chosen, the owner eventually dies from suffocation.

**cough cough**

Roger was bent over his toilet, coughing his lungs out. And what wasn't his lungs too. It had started some weeks ago, after an especially fun party when the four of them had a blast and stayed together until the sunrise, even had breakfast while still drunk (John had gone home by then, but him Freddie and Brian were very much still partying) and in the beginning he thought it was just hangover, or that he'd gotten a cold that night.

Because it was just a small little cough, nothing serious, a little tickle on his throat. It had happened before and it would happen again. Maybe he'd been smoking too much? He could sometimes overdo himself with the cigarettes. And although winter had already passed those kind of viruses sometimes lingered till the spring, too. Really, nothing to concern himself.

Then Roger started feeling an odd weight on his chest. He woke up with it, as if there was something on his lungs that was weighing them down, something that was taking up space for air to pass. And the cough had only gotten worse, with was again quite strange since he didn't have any other flu-like symptoms, no sneezing, no headaches, nothing like that. But the cough remained there, bad as ever. He stopped smoking altogether (which was hard as fuck) but the cough remained there, strong as ever.

He tried to hide it, but Brian noticed, gently asked if there was anything he could do, and Roger had a full on coughing fit. Things only seemed to be getting and worse and Roger was starting to get worried. He went to the doctor, but the man just took a look at him and told him to party less and that it would probably go away on its own. But it wasn't going away on its own – it was only getting worse. Breathing was getting harder and the day after his coughing fit...

He coughed up some flower petals. Blue, pink, purple. It was as if he'd swallowed up a bouquet and now it was coming up again, as if he was throwing it up. Some days later the “as if” part disappeared, as he started literally throwing up flowers. He was on the toilet, and he couldn't stop throwing them up. It was horrible, especially because he didn't know what was happening and he was... reluctant to tell other people.

He was

a) afraid that this was something nobody else had and that he would be taken to hospitals and be tested in a million ways, and for weeks and weeks he would be prodded and have needles stuck in him

b) scared that they would tell him this was some deadly incurable disease and that he'd lived up his time on earth, that they were very sorry (if it was the case, he'd rather not know)

c) a bit embarrassed of how unmanly this was (really, Roger, flowers??)

d)worried that the others would tell him he shouldn't play music until he was healthy again (playing was his main source of joy, he couldn't lose that)

So there he was, in the floor of the toilet, coughing and coughing , with some drool still in his mouth from all that he'd been throwing up and some flower petals spread on the floor. His eyes welled up – he was so tired of feeling this bad, doctors dismissed him and he hadn't found anything on the books that would explain what was wrong with him. He was tired, he was sick, and he was feeling lonely and misunderstood.

That's how Deaky found him, on the floor, eyes bright with tears, surrounded by flower petals drenched in saliva.

“Oh, Roger, why didn't you say anything?”

“It sounded ridiculous... I'm going to die because I can't stop throwing up flowers.” Roger's voice was broken and small.

“You don't have to die! Just have the surgery or hope for the best and tell the person, the may return your feelings.”

“Surgery? Telling... what exactly are you talking about? You know what's wrong with me?” The drummer's blue eyes were hopeful.

“You don't? It's Hanahaki disease, you idiot!” John said, with a smile. It was obvious, wasn't it?

“Han.. what? Did I pick up something deadly in Japan? What the hell does that mean!”

“I guess it's not that well known, huh, especially here. Which I don't know why, since it's an illness that's spread all around the world.” Roger looked, expectant. “Hanahaki is disease that makes your lungs and throat get clogged with flowers when you're feeling one-sided love. Don't ask me why, it's a thing about chemical reactions in the brain creating seeds, I don't know. The thing is, if you don't do anything, you'll end up choking to death.”

“Jesus!” Roger did not want to die choked by flowers, thank you very much.

"But, not to worry, there are ways to cure it, stop the growth. The first one is if the person returns your feelings. Sometimes this person already loves you back, but you don't know and the flowers still grow. If this person tells you that they love you, and show it, I don't know, with a kiss or something, those funky reactions in your brain stop and you get rid of it.”

“And if the person doesn't love me back?”

“There's a surgery- but it will take away all your feelings of this person, all you've lived together... Sometimes even your memories of them. So, who is it?”

“I don't know... Nobody... I haven't been taking anyone home lately, you know that...”

“Who has been there the day before the first time you felt it? Before the fits, who do you think about?”

“I don't know... it's just you guys, family, nobody that I like in that way...”

It had to be one of them, then. Deaky smiled came up with a way to get the truth, even if Roger couldn't tell.

“Tell me the sexiest person you know, without thinking, on the count of three! One, two, three!”

“Brian!”

Roger's eyes went round with realisation and amazement. He had a great night with Brian before the symptoms started. The guitarist looked all worried at him and asked him to look after himself before the first fit. Brian was always there, in one way or another. Being fun, being kind and thoughtful, putting up with him despite how different they were, respecting his opinions even if he didn't agree, being all tall, lanky and sexy and playing the guitar like no one else in the world. He felt nausea overcoming him at the mere thought of his friend, and threw up a good helping of rose and tulip petals.

“Shit. I'm in love with Brian. This is bad, John, this is so bad.” Roger couldn't stop shaking his head. This was even worse than something deadly. This was feelings!

“Why? Just tell him, Brian loves you.” It seemed like the only logical next step, and something that was a long time coming.

“Not like that! We're just friends.” Friends and nothing else. “Besides, he likes women.”  
  
“So do you, and you obviously like men too! This is not math, Roger, there's not one correct answer. Things are more flexible than that.”

“I can't tell him. I can't practically tell myself...”

“So what are you going to do? Die on flower petals? Or let yourself be cut open and lose all the good memories you have with one of your oldest friends just not to tell him something that could be the start of something good?”

“He'll say no. Then I'll have to have the surgery anyways, but after being humiliated.” He kept shaking his head. “Where do you get this surgery?”

“Roger, no! At least think about it before doing something that drastic! Talk with Brian, see how much he cares... At least try! He loves you, I'm telling you! And he would be super hurt if you suddenly forgot him!”

Well, he really didn't want to hurt Brian, but he didn't want to hurt himself, either. He could hardly stomach when the guitarist didn't like one of his songs, if he rejected the whole of him... As a person... Romantically... It would hurt too much.

But there was also the chance that Brian did like him back, and there would never a chance for them to be together if he had the operation, which would mean he would be throwing Brian into the same hell he found himself in.

He got up, asked Deaky if he could please clean the toilet for him and went to his drums, hoping for some clarity.

 

There were some daisy petals on the floor.

 

Time was running low.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Brian was worried that he'd done something to upset Roger and he didn't know what could it be. The drummer seemed to be avoiding him, they never talked anymore, hell, Roger wouldn't even look at him lately. And Brian was really confused because he had absolutely no idea what had brought this on.

In fact, lately if anything they'd got closer than they used to, they had some really good times together. Brian had been happy because he felt that his and Roger's friendship was stronger, better, that they had a deeper closer bond... Something that could last forever.

They had fought so much that sometimes Brian worried that one day one of them would snap and they would stop talking, but lately it seemed that they would overcome everything. That their bond was too strong for anything to break it. Brian had thought that were in a very good place and now....

Brian almost wanted to cry. Roger was the person he knew the longest in the band, and he had considered him his best friend. He had known that no matter what he could always count on Roger. He was anchor in a world that was often a bit too much for Brian, someone to talk, a confidant. Very often they didn't see eye to eye, but they always had a nice pat on the back, maybe some advice. It was good. And now...

Brian threw an inquisitive look at Roger and the blonde just took his eyes away. Brian almost wanted to cry. Why was this happening? He asked Freddie and John but there wasn't much that they could tell him, which only made him worry more. John wanted to tell him something but said that it was up to Roger to say, and not to worry too much about it.

“Not to worry? We used to talk every day, we used to hang out and have great times together... Now he won't even look at me. How can I not worry?”

“I wish I could tell you, Brian, I really do, but it's a personal thing of Roger's. He has to be the one to tell you.”

Brian just nodded with a burdened expression.

“How is he? Did the cough clear up? Did he see a doctor? It had been going on for too long...”

John was touched at the guitarist's concern, he gave him some vague excuse and then decided to march towards Roger. He really should be telling Brian – the taller man was very hurt, he was really sad that Roger was avoiding him, he was missing his friend a lot, and very worried about him... This was stupid. Brian loved Roger and Roger was going through a lot of crap on the fear of being rejected. Stupid.

Very stupid to be doubling over in the toilet with tears in his eyes as more lavender and orchids came out of his throat. A paragon of stupidity. Deaky needed to do something about this, he couldn't just be an spectator.

“You should have seen him, Roger. He's super broken up that you're not talking to him and super worried about your health. You have to tell him.”

“I don't want to!” Roger said, knowing he sounded like a little whiny child.

“You want to throw up and nearly choke on flowers every day? That's what you want?”

Roger's big eyes were teary and bright and it was difficult to be harsh with him, especially when he looked so miserable but adorable. Still, some harshness was needed, as this had been going on for too long. Roger was barely able to feed himself – it was getting harder to keep food down, and after spending so much time throwing up the notion of food was... unappetizing. So Roger was really hurting himself doing this, beyond the symptoms of the illness, and John feared that it could lead to something more serious, more severe. Right now it was just stupid, but it could turn into dangerous easily.

And it wasn't just Roger. Brian looked like an abandoned, kicked puppy, all big hair and sad eyes looking at his loved one with a sorrowful expression. He was getting really depressed thinking that he had done something to Roger, to make him not want to talk, to make him angry. Brian was nearly in tears thinking that he was losing one of the most important people in his life and even worse, that he wasn't being there for Roger when he was ill, when he needed a friend. He felt awful and didn't how to fix things, because he didn't know what was broken.

In general, this whole situation was useless and was making everyone hurt.

Roger was crying and has bits of daisy petals mixed with drool under his lips and he looked like the picture of misery, thrown in that bathroom floor. He was actively begging John not to say anything, because this day had been torture and he couldn't weather any more shame or heartbreak or sadness...

Roger was just quite simply exhausted, and a bit scared, if he was honest. He was usually a very driven person, so confident, so brave, always loving to take risks, to dare do things many others would never... but when it was something concerning their fluffy guitarist he became... Shaky, insecure, frozen. Roger knew that this couldn't continue for long, and something had to be done but... He hadn't gathered the strength to do it. Not just yet.

So he simply cleaned himself a bit and walked out of the bathroom, locking himself in his bedroom, hoping to manage something that resembled peace of mind, clarity. It wasn't going to be easy, his stomach, his head and his heart were a complete mess and the flowers were only making everything worse.

Brian went to the bathroom only minutes later and was overcome by the smell of flowers (all types of flowers!) that was covering every inch of that room. It was as if he'd stepped on a flower shop, which made no sense because as far as he knew there were no flowers in that house. And then it all made sense, the coughing, the pain and hurt in Roger's eyes, how down he seemed to be lately... This was Hanahaki's!

Brian had learned about it in his time in Japan, and found it fascinating. The inner scientist in him marveled at the way biology had made this happen, and the inner romantic in him thought it was a lovely but dangerous thing. To turn love into something that could kill you... Everyone was at risk. But try as he might he couldn't think of anyone in he world who wouldn't love Roger back – that was quite a puzzle. It wasn't a thought that could be comprehended.

So Brian went to Roger's bedroom door and just put his forehead on it, trying to find the right words. There was a faint sound coughing on the other side of the door and Brian now understood why.

“Roger? It's me, Brian. I think I know why you're like this.” Roger's heart accelerated to a dangerous rate at that. “I don't know how I am connected to this, but I know what's your sickness, and just... just tell them, Rog, there's nobody in the world that doesn't love you. Every surgery has a risk, and a certain fatality rate... Don't put yourself through that.”

There was no answer from the other side.

“Just tell me who it is, I'll call them and this person will tell you that they love you back and all this will be over. I know it's not my place to say, but I hate to see you suffering.”

Then there was a sound of a full on coughing fit and a dead weight falling on the floor.

“Roger? Roger!”

But Roger was trapped in his own room, unconscious with rose petals stuck in his throat, as stuck were the words that could save his life.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually they managed to break the lock and open the door, after many many tries. Freddie was going to have some nice bruises on his shoulders after this, but it absolutely didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to their blonde bandmate, helping him.

And there they saw him thrown on the floor, lifeless. Roger was sprawled on the floor of his bedroom, pale as death. His lips were becoming blue from lack of oxygen and in that moment Brian felt that he was the one who couldn't breathe anymore. This couldn't be happening. It was horrible, too terrible, it simply couldn't be.

John put his head on Roger's chest, careful not to slip with all the flower petals on the floor, to try and listen for some breathing, but there was none. He wasn't moving any air, he was asphyxiating.

“Shit, his throat is closed up with those damn flowers. We need to get them out, clear his airways so he can breathe properly again.” He looked around, as if looking for an answer and then made a decision. “Brian, you've got the longest fingers out of any of us. Come and try to get these petals out.”

Brian felt frozen but knew that they were right, that it was up to him. Roger's life was literally in his hands and there was no time for hesitations, for stupid doubts and insecurities. He had to be there for Roger, he had to save him. Now was the time for action.

Slightly shaky, Brian put his hand on Roger's throat and went down. Went in, slowly but surely until his hands found something solid, something that could be flower petals. The room was in complete silence: Roger unconscious, Brian completely concentrated and Freddie and John holding their breaths as they watched the scene unfold, hoping for the best.

Brian was trying to be as helpful and fast but also as careful as possible. He knew that staying without oxygen in the brain for a long time could lead to a long of damage and complications, so he had to be quick, but he didn't want hurt Roger's throat more than necessary. Carefully and with two long fingers, he got a hold of the petals that were causing the block and got them out of Roger's throat, finally, and the blonde came back to life.

There was some dry coughing, some heaving, and deep breaths and those bright blue eyes looked around him, bright and a bit unfocused.

“Roger, thank god.”

He could hardly remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered was not being able to breathe, and Brian's voice on the other side of the door... Now Brian was in front of him and he looked as if he'd just witnessed a horrifying tragedy.

“What...?” Roger tried to say with a hoarse voice.

“You stopped breathing, fell on the floor. Your throat was blocked, there was no air going in or out. Brian had to get his hand on your throat, get those petals out. You nearly died. Roger, this has gone too far. It's put your life in danger. Talk to him, before it's too late. Before we're not able to bring you back.”

Roger nodded as he tried to recover his breathing. He knew that there no more putting it off, he knew that he had to do something now.

“Fred, come with me. There's something I need to tell you.” John said, and Roger was left alone with Brian.

The guitarist was breathing heavily, trying to hold back the tears.

“Brian, I...”

“You almost died. I had to put my hand down your throat to make you breathe again. Don't fucking scare me like that again. EVER.”

“Sorry. I'll try not to.”

There was a moment of pause. They looked at each other in the eye and Roger nodded. Here cam the dreaded moment of truth. This ended now – if he wasn't reciprocated he would schedule the surgery for the soonest date available.

“You were right, it Hanahaki's. There is someone that I've known forever, but I recently developed feelings for him. Because he's kind, opinionated, and intelligent and beautiful. He's always been there for me, has even saved my life.”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Do I know this person?”

“How can you be so intelligent for some things and so oblivious for others? It's you, you long-legged idiot! It's always been you – I didn't tell you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship...”

Brian took Roger's pale on his own, and not letting him say another word, placed a gentle, slow kiss on his lips, that still smelled strongly of flowers. Roger looked at those hazel eyes so full of love and longing. Brian may be an oblivious idiot, but he wasn't much better.

“All this time....” He started, and Brian stopped him. He had a great many things to say on this subject.

“Yes, Roger all this time. I hoped and longed and knew that you'd never see me in that way. That I wouldn't get anything past being friends. You were too much, I was too little. How was I supposed to think that you would settle for me?” Brian said, with his sweet gentle voice, a bit ashamed. “You would always bring the most beautiful men and women around, you had this super high standards, people with great fashion, lively and extroverted...”

Roger smiled softly. Honestly, he'd even surprised himself with this infatuation.

“Yeah, well, the heart wants what the heart wants. And it wants you, Brian, even if you've had the same hairstyle for the last five years, and even if you can be quiet and full of yourself, and sometimes too stubborn.”

“Wow, thanks, Rog. I love you too.” Brian said, with mock offense.

“Don't be like that! The thing is that you don't need to be trendy, or the biggest chatterbox and party animal ever. Sure, I enjoy those things and they can be nice for a while... But they're never enough, for the very stupid reason that they're not you.”

“Roger...”

“I nearly died because of this, now you're going to hear me.”

Brian put his hands up, motioned Roger to go on.

“I didn't meant to fall in love with you. Hell, I didn't want to. You... you can be a handful, Brian, and so can I. It looked like a terrible match, really, you don't care for cars, I don't care for space dust, or guitarists in general... But you made it impossible. Still, after all that we fight, you try to get good drum parts when you write a song. You take my opinion into account, respect me as a person and as a musician. You have a ridiculously pretty smile and such an expressive face. You're so much more than enough, and I... I'm done waiting.”

There was another kiss, deeper this time. Closed eyes, a hand on that curly hair, all his body into it. Roger could feel himself being able to breathe better each second, in their flower scented bathroom. He took a deep breath, and didn't cough. Brian was smiling at him. For a day with a near death experience, it hadn't ended that bad. And then he had an idea, although some might think it a bit morbid.

He took petals from the floor, of all colours and sizes, and put them on Brian's chest. The taller man just raised an eyebrow.

“You're giving these things that nearly killed you?”

“It's for you. A symbol of how much I love you, or some shit.”

Brian didn't understand anything, and would rather not be reminded of the whole Hanahaki business that had almost ended tragically, so he just asked:

“... Why?”

“Because you're my only dearest little petal. And I want you to have a piece of me with you always.”

Brian chuckled, and smiled.

“Always.”

… And always they would have each other, and always they would remember, through those flowers, how tough it had been to get together.

(But roses were out of the question, because Brian had actually needed to get those petals out of Roger's throat and now the mere sight made him gag. It made for some... peculiar Valentine's day and weddings for the poor man)

Roger wrote a song called “My only dearest little petal”. John hated it. Freddie found it funny. Brian could only giggle.

Life was good, there was no more coughing, no more longing....

Just a healthy dose of (very much requited) love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked! Please do comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
